The Sand Prince (29 page)

May covered a smile with her hand. "If you can tell me what Pol does, I will talk to him about letting you help."

"He... he...he pays the bills. He does things with paper. He writes letters to Father. Shit."

"Exactly. And as far as you at the Guardhouse, I will forget you ever said it. You do have a job, my little love. Your job is to attend functions, be charming, and not embarrass the rest of us. Take classes, if you wish. Go to lectures with Althee. Read a book. Paint. If you behave like the lovely young lady you are, you might marry a First or Second yourself, so think of that. Your own home, maybe in the Upper Garden. The Families consolidate and protect. Now. Rane." For the first time, May thought she was making headway.

"He poisoned me, I know it."

May took her sister’s hands. "Think, Lelly—if he’s actually tried to poison you, which I frankly doubt, what will he do next? He won’t back down, you know how he is. There is—and I say this with all the love I have for him in my heart—there is a piece missing from our brother. You know what I'm talking about."

"You mean like Mother." May knew she was getting her sister’s attention. To mention their mother, that meant there was no more joking. That meant she was deadly serious.

"I’m afraid he’ll hurt you, maybe even without meaning to."

Lelet was quiet for a while. "If we are no longer at war, he’ll need a new hobby. What does Father say?"

"He’s been at the farms so long, I don’t think he really knows how it is with you two." The silkworm farms were the major source of the family’s income and had been for many generations. May rose to her feet, brushing stray mint leaves from her long morning skirts. "Leave Rane to me and to Pol. Just promise me, Lel, I can’t stand the thought of this getting any worse."

To May’s relief, Lelet nodded and gripped her hands. "I will, May, for you. But what happens when he loses a scarf or breaks a lace?"

And in fact, that was exactly what happened. But instead of a missing cufflink, it was only two days before Rane discovered his mirror smashed and jagged shards strewn across the floor of his room. Despite Lelet’s nearly hysterical protestations of innocence, no one really believed her.

May was furious.

"Why do you lie? Who else would have done this?"

"I’ve told you a million times! I don’t know! It wasn’t me!" Lelet was nearly as angry at someone else daring to try and injure one of her siblings as she was at being falsely accused.

May rubbed her forehead so hard it left red marks. "Well, I’ve tried. I give up. Just please do two things for me."

"May, I would do anything-"

"Don’t see this spread around town. And Lelet? Watch your back."

––––––––

"She never loved me!" cried Sir Edward, perched precariously on the windowsill, "And so she had to die! And without my only love, why should I trouble to live in this world either?"

With that, he looked once more at Gwenyth, who tried so hard to save him, and with tears in his eyes stepped out to meet his fate on the sea-torn crags below.

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 155

Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)

––––––––

M
istra

100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar

20 years later, Eriisai calendar

va’Everly family residence

Moth (for he now thought of himself that way) had found the perfect place for himself. It was dry, safe, hidden, and gave him access to the horrible child's family. It was Lelet's balcony. It was a small space with a roof overhead, a sturdy trellis leading to the ground (and the roof, where he contacted Scilla), and it had a row of tall potted bushes cutting it nearly in half. At first, he couldn't understand why she'd diminish her outdoor space, but he quickly discovered the plants served as a cover for evening activities she didn't want observed by the neighbors, or her family. The row of plants made a perfect privacy screen for both of them. And even in full daylight, it was all shadows.

At the moment it was full of blankets, cast off clothing he'd picked up and found wanting (usually too small), silver he'd taken from the kitchen (he enjoyed having whatever the family ate for dinner), and a scattering of items from Rane and from Lelet herself. He returned the silver every morning, and when this was finally over, he'd give the two back their pins and cuffs and shoes.

After watching them for nearly three months, he'd gotten to know the family fairly well, and with no excuse not to contact her, learned more than he cared to about Scilla. Sometimes she treated him like a barely civilized convict, like a criminal. Other times, he was her confidant.

"Wait," she'd said, as he was about to blow his candle out that evening.

"Well?" he asked.

"Umm, what did you do today?"

"What did I do?" he repeated. "What did I do? Well, I spent a while waiting for Lelet and Rane to go off to whatever they do all day, which I'm sure was more entertaining than what I did after that, which was tipping over all of your sister’s pictures and whatnot in her room. As you required. It was another big day for me, and I can't wait until tomorrow when I get to—what was it?—ah! Go into Rane's room and hang his shirts so the hangers are facing the wrong way. Can't wait. But I think the real centerpiece of tomorrow is going to be over-salting the soup. I honestly, really wish you could be here to witness it for yourself."

"Well, there's no reason to be so mean about it. It can't all be throwing fireballs or whatever you did back on Eriis."

He looked at her coldly. "What I did on Eriis is not part of this conversation. Are we done?"

"I just thought you might want to talk about it! Sorr-rry! Contact me again day after tomorrow." She blew out her candle.

He thought perhaps she was lonely. He knew he was. He had no one to talk to, no one who even knew he existed except the horrible child. Well, her, and one of those angry little dogs. This one sometimes sat on the railing of the balcony and watched him. He named it Mouse and tried tempting it with food from the kitchen. It never let him get close enough to touch it, but when he awoke, or returned from an errand, the food would be gone.

The worst part of being on his own, he decided, was finding wonders in this world and having no one to share them with.

One afternoon, while still getting his bearings on the house and its scattered outbuildings, he was almost caught near the stables. He knew the family had two horses living there and very much wanted to visit them, but there were also lots of loud voiced humans in and out, day and night. At least one appeared to live there in the building with the horses. He was watching them come and go when one of the big animals must have noticed he was nearby. It tried to run in the other direction, so the men figured there was some sort of predator in the bushes. As one of them calmed the spooked beast, two others strode with staves and sticks in hand in his direction. As much as he craved contact, he didn't want to find it at the end of a shovel, so he found the shadows under the trees and under the stable's peaked roofline. They wouldn't be able to see him now even if they looked right at him, but the horse wasn't fooled. It still stamped and snorted and refused to be soothed. He slipped around the side of the building, and then through an unlocked glass door. He heard the two with the makeshift weapons go by, agreeing that the horse was startled by the wind, or a squirrel, or its own nose.

He was in a jungle.

The little room was made of glass, but so full of greenery that no one could see in. It was small, he could go from one end to the other in four steps, and it was warmed by the sun and the brick wall it was built against. He stood and breathed for a few minutes, the green smell filling his head, feeling his skin relax. The air was full of moisture and fanned by a gentle breeze. He found a metal chain with a big glass pull, and discovered he could lever the upper panes open and closed, and spent some time making it warmer and cooler.

The plants, though, were in a bad way. They appeared thirsty and neglected, the pots were dusty and the floor was littered with debris. He picked a rake out of the jumble of supplies in the corner and began to clean.

***

A
s evening fell, Moth watched the family wander back from their daily activities. He listened to them discuss their days. Pol had spent the day arguing with a ship's captain who swore his holds had somehow gotten both smaller and more expensive. May, as she often did, spent her day with her best friend Stelle, poring over lists of eligible First and Second sons. Rane wasn't seen to leave his rooms, but simply materialized at the front gate when dinner was called.

Lelet had spent the morning praying for a quick death, and the afternoon having only small, sensible cocktails. Clearly, she had a plan for later that night that required a clear head.

Moth slipped from shadow to shadow and watched all of them with great interest. He had grown particularly fond of May, who had the nicest voice. He was more cautious around Rane, who out of all of them seemed most likely to see him standing nearby. The horrible child had told him to focus his attention on her pink haired sister, and he had done so. He didn't enjoy that his actions were making Lelet nervous and testy, drinking more, smoking more, and sleeping less, but he had no choice. He hoped before he went home he might apologize to her, or simply explain.

Scilla had called Lelet a vain, shallow, profligate (he liked that word), and this evening he was to steal something she loved. He knew her possessions fairly well by now and he had his eye on her hairbrush. It was silver and had the form of the body of a human woman. He felt like she'd miss it and he'd be a step closer to his freedom.

By the end of dinner, everyone was in a tense mood. He had whispered to the cook that the soup needed a great deal more salt; surely you have more than that? And recommended to the maid that she might try setting the knives where the forks normally went. Spoons? No one uses spoons anymore.

He knew the household staff almost as well as the family, and he knew where all the shadows in the kitchen fell.

"Oh, and Rane?" said Lelet. "I can't believe I even have to say this, seeing as how neither of us are seven, but please do stay out of my room."

Rane barely looked up from his soup, which for once had enough salt in it. "Why would I go in there? It smells like the Gorda at low tide."

She was instantly furious. "You knocked all my pictures over! Every one of them is on its back!"

He opened his mouth—it was almost too easy—but stopped when he saw twin murder in the eyes of his older siblings.

"Just one. One peaceful dinner after a day of actually working," said Pol.

Lelet saw her opportunity and threw down her napkin. "You always take his side—both of you! I'm going up." She stomped up the stairs for all she was worth. Moth lingered at the doorway, watching the rest of them. He wanted to follow her, but thought he'd wait until they wrapped things up down here.

"Was that taking a side?" asked Pol. "May, would you please talk to her?"

"Yes May," echoed Rane. "Please talk to her."

"Rane," said Pol, "Not helping. But I am glad we have a moment to talk."

Rane was on his feet in an instant. "Dinner was lovely! I am expected—"

"Sit."

Rane sat.

Pol cleared his throat. Took a sip of coffee. Stirred in a bit more sugar. Took another sip. Templed his fingers. Sighed. Finally he said, "This is going to sound a bit unorthodox, but I think you'll agree that you feel yourself to be above convention."

"I am the man this family made me," Rane smirked.

"Yes. Well. I have wonderful news," Pol said.

"Yes," agreed May, "you are going to love this."

Rane’s smirk faltered. "Are you increasing my allowance and sending Lelet to live in the stables?"

"Ha. No." Pol glanced at May, who nodded encouragingly. "We have talked with Father and his duties increase daily. You know how you’re always looking for new things to do? Going to work with Father at the farms—won't that be exciting? A turn in the fresh air?"

"Work? Me, work? On a farm?" He had turned a bit pale.

"Well," said Pol, "of course the choice is yours. As a Third, no one
expects
you to join Father out on the farms. So as long as a certain equilibrium is maintained here at home, things can remain as tradition demands. If, however, you two cannot behave like the proper children of the Fifty Families instead of dogs in the street, we both think—we
all
think—working with Father will be the best course of action."

Rane was white with rage. "And what does
she
have to do? What is her unorthodox remedy?"

May said, "I have already spoken with her and she is more than willing to behave herself."

Rane looked from Pol to May with sheer disbelief. "And you believe her?"

May said, "After the poisoned wine incident, she's ready to wave a white flag. Really, Rane, you could have killed her."

Rane looked wounded. "I had nothing to do with that. And I don't think anyone ever died from a hangover. But if my choices are working on the farm or accepting victory, I'll be delighted to leave her alone. She said it herself. We aren't seven years old anymore. Now if you'll excuse me...."

After he'd left, Pol and May sat with their coffee.

"Do you believe him?" asked Pol.

"Do you believe her?" replied May.

"Can we send them both to the farms?"

May sighed and sat back in her chair. "What a beautiful dream."

Moth left them at the table and followed Rane down the street until he hailed a cab. The horse sensed him and snorted and shook its head until he backed away, so he turned and headed for Lelet's little terrace. He would spend the night watching the stars through the trees. Watching the slow rotation of the sky had turned into his favorite thing (except water—that was still the best). This world was almost unbearably busy during the day, but night was better. He could focus on one thing at a time.

Tonight Lelet had lit a few candles and taken care to pick up her clothing. The room looked almost neat. That was new. He found himself nearly stepped on as a young man climbed over the low rail and knocked on the glass door.